Every long-running show takes creative risks, and Doctor Who has never shied away from experimenting with its format. Love & Monsters, first broadcast on June 17, 2006, is one of the most divisive episodes of the modern era, and it’s easy to see why. Written by Russell T Davies and directed by Dan Zeff, this Doctor-lite story shifts the focus away from the Time Lord and onto the ordinary people whose lives he touches—an idea filled with potential but executed in a way that left many fans bewildered.
Rewatching it in 2025, however, there’s something oddly charming about Love & Monsters. While it may not be a traditional Doctor Who episode, it dares to do something different, offering a unique perspective on what it means to live in a world where the Doctor exists. At its core, it is a story about fandom, obsession, and the human need to find connection, even in the strangest of circumstances.
The episode is framed through the video diary of Elton Pope, played with an endearing awkwardness by Marc Warren. Elton is an ordinary man who once had a fleeting encounter with the Doctor as a child. That brief moment left an indelible mark on him, leading him to seek out others who share his fascination. Enter L.I.N.D.A.—the London Investigation ‘N’ Detective Agency—a ragtag group of outsiders brought together by their shared interest in the Doctor. At first, their meetings are lighthearted, more about friendships and baking than genuine investigation, but there’s something deeply relatable about their camaraderie. The idea of people bonding over a mutual passion, of a fandom forming its own little community, is one that resonates strongly in the modern world.
For a good portion of its runtime, Love & Monsters is refreshingly grounded. The Doctor and Rose exist mostly on the periphery, glimpsed in flashbacks or fleeting encounters. This allows the episode to explore what it means to be an observer in the Doctor’s world rather than a participant. The joy of L.I.N.D.A. is in their ordinariness—they’re not warriors, scientists, or alien experts, just everyday people drawn to something bigger than themselves. It’s a concept with a lot of emotional depth, one that could have sustained an entire episode on its own.
And then, Victor Kennedy arrives.
Peter Kay, best known for his comedic work, plays Kennedy with a mixture of sinister authority and over-the-top theatricality. His arrival marks a sharp tonal shift—what was once a warm and quirky character study begins to morph into something far darker. Under his influence, L.I.N.D.A. changes. Their meetings become stricter, their joy is replaced with tension, and one by one, members start disappearing. It’s a clear metaphor for the toxicity that can creep into fandom—the way an innocent passion can be twisted by those who seek control. Unfortunately, this promising theme is somewhat overshadowed by the bizarre reveal that Kennedy is, in fact, an alien called the Abzorbaloff.
Designed by a child as part of a Blue Peter competition, the Abzorbaloff is one of Doctor Who’s most infamous monsters. While there’s something inherently grotesque about a creature that absorbs people into its own body, the execution leans heavily into the absurd. The exaggerated facial expressions of its victims, their muffled cries from beneath its fleshy mass, push the horror into comedic territory. Peter Kay’s performance, shifting from menacing to outright camp, makes it difficult to take the threat seriously. It’s a shame because the concept—of a creature preying on those who seek knowledge, who manipulate a group dynamic for their own ends—is one that had the potential to be genuinely chilling.
Still, Love & Monsters does have moments of genuine emotional weight. Elton’s backstory, his tragic connection to the Doctor, is handled with sincerity. The revelation that his mother was killed by an alien presence while he was a child is a gut-punch, made all the more powerful by Marc Warren’s heartfelt performance. It’s a reminder that the Doctor’s influence is not always a positive one—he saves lives, but he also leaves scars.
The final scene, however, is where Love & Monsters truly loses its footing. The reveal that Ursula has survived as a talking face embedded in a paving slab is widely regarded as one of the most baffling moments in the show’s history. While the intent is clear—to offer Elton some form of happy ending—it lands as bizarre rather than touching. The implication of their continued relationship raises more questions than it answers, and it undercuts much of the emotional sincerity the episode had built up.
Rewatching Love & Monsters in 2025, it still stands as one of the most unusual episodes of the revival era. While it’s easy to see why it remains divisive, there’s also a lot to admire in its ambition. The exploration of fandom, the power of community, and the unintended consequences of the Doctor’s presence all make for fascinating themes. If the Abzorbaloff had been handled with a bit more subtlety, and if the final moments had been reworked, it could have been a genuinely great episode. As it stands, it’s a flawed but intriguing experiment—one that proves that Doctor Who is never afraid to take risks, even if they don’t always pay off.
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